


shift in the light

by brynnmclean (ilfirin_estel)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Episode Related, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 03:06:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16462184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilfirin_estel/pseuds/brynnmclean
Summary: A round-up of Black Sails ficlets originally posted on Tumblr.1-The spirit of Miranda Barlow-Hamilton walks through Charles Town as it burns.  This rage given form is still hers, hers and James’s, a vow made and kept.





	shift in the light

**Author's Note:**

> Title is after Richard Siken's ["Portrait of Fryderyk in Shifting Light"](http://brynnmclean.tumblr.com/post/125133083719/portrait-of-fryderyk-in-shifting-light-by-richard) from _War of the Foxes_.
> 
> I know I'm late to the Black Sails fandom, as I am only just now watching the show here in Autumn 2018, but here I am at last. I hope to eventually write fic longer than 1k, but until then, here is a home for smaller pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr [here](http://brynnmclean.tumblr.com/post/179525314584/the-spirit-of-miranda-barlow-hamilton-walks) pretty much while I watched the season two finale.

The spirit of Miranda Barlow-Hamilton walks through Charles Town as it burns, as it splinters apart, as men and women run and scream and bleed—as Peter Ashe bleeds into the dirt, Miranda walks as calmly as if she were crossing from one room to another in her house on Nassau. The violence crashing upon the walls of this place cannot touch her—she is not of the world any longer, yes, but this rage given form is still hers, hers and James’s, a vow made and kept.

Her ghost walks through the shattered buildings and billowing smoke and finds Governor Ashe, his bloodshot eyes darting from the bones of the scaffold to the corpse in the box and then to her in the middle distance, the place beyond the world he thought he owned.

 _I didn’t want this,_ he can’t say, guilt like ash caught in his throat. _Forgive me._

Miranda comes close, kneels down into the spreading pool of blood from him. It doesn’t stain her skirt or her shoes. Her hands—one hand rests against his cheek, the other wraps delicate fingers around his throat. He shudders at her touch, how it burns.

She is silent for a long moment, a little smile on her beautiful face as she feels his pulse, the last flickering moments of his life.

“I don’t forgive you,” she tells him, her fury still blazing even beyond the grave. “I don’t.”


End file.
